


The Indispensable

by Letha



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letha/pseuds/Letha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you need?" she asked, trying with all her might to keep the tremors off her voice as he stepped even closer.</p><p>"You," Sherlock replied. A moment later, he was leaning closer, like he had at the Christmas party. His eyes were burning her own, his lips slighty parted. It was as though something had just dawned on him. Something so obvious that he had overlooked it all that time.</p><p>His hands then traveled to rest on her waist. He pulled her closer and lowered his head enough to whisper over her parted lips.</p><p>"I need you." His breath ghosted over her mouth, the smell and heat so intoxicating that Molly forgot how to breathe. Her knees felt weak, unable to support her weight. Heat spreaded over her chest, reaching her lower regions faster than it should have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Indispensable

**Author's Note:**

> So... I wrote some Sherolly for a change! Look, look! **Smut!** I must admit, it's the first time I'm proud of a sex scene I wrote. So, cheers!

There was something sexy about the way Sherlock stared at corpses. Molly never knew what it was, but if she had to theorise, she would say it was the passion behind his eyes as he inspected them quick and thoroughly. Maybe even his excited semblance as he explained his discoveries to all the other "idiots" in the room.

He had never called her an idiot. Sherlock could be many things, but for a man who claimed superiority of mind against those who surrounded them and was always uninterested in everyone else's sentiments, he was never rude to women the way he could be with men. He never tip-toed around women, no. But he tried to keep his temper at bay much more than when he was surrounded by his own sex.

That one time at the Christmas party had been different. He wasn't trying to be disrespectful. In fact, he was trying to show off his well-developed deducing capacities once again. Molly stood mesmerised by him voicing every single one of his (accurate) deductions, dreading the moment he would get to the right conclusion. As usual, it didn't take him more than a minute to realise that the man she had groomed for, her love interest, was himself. Sherlock froze as he read the card. Looking into her eyes, he apologised. He never did. And yet, there it was: a sincere apology coming from his lips. And instead of hating him for the embarrassment he had just put her through, instead of looking back at the moment she fell for his brilliant and twisted mind with anger in her eyes, she couldn't help but fall for him even deeper.

Sherlock leaned in and kissed her cheek, and Molly knew right then and there that her feelings towards the high-functioning sociopath had long since stopped being a mere crush, developing instead into something far more complex and painful: love.

And so it was, that when two months later Sherlock came to her for help, she did not turn him down. In fact, she even offered her help in whatever it was that was going through his mind. Shewas about to leave the building when he walked in.

"What do you need?" she asked, trying with all her might to keep the tremors off her voice as he stepped even closer.

"You," Sherlock replied. A moment later, he was leaning closer, like he had at the Christmas party. His eyes were burning her own, his lips slighty parted. It was as though something had just dawned on him. Something so obvious that he had overlooked it all that time.

His hands then traveled to rest on her waist. He pulled her closer and lowered his head enough to whisper over her parted lips.

"I need you." His breath ghosted over her mouth, the smell and heat so intoxicating that Molly forgot how to breathe. Her knees felt weak, unable to support her weight. Heat spreaded over her chest, reaching her lower regions faster than it should have.

 And that was when Sherlock overcame whatever was keeping him apart from her; their lips met in a crushing, need-filled kiss. Like magnets kept apart for too long, their mouths met halfway in the air. And then, somehow, as the kiss deepened, Molly found her hands pulling Sherlock closer by the back of his head, her lower body pressed to his. Every inhibition she had ever felt around him, around anyone, was gone in the fraction of a second; the part of her brain that sat back and relaxed as her body took over her actions admired how in a moment's time, all her shyness had gone out the window, and also wondered how long it would last--probably until the kiss was over--but she shut her mind up, instead dwelling in the fact that it was Sherlock's lips on her mouth, his warm body pressed to her, his hands roaming around her back.

 Their kiss was all desire and passion. In a quick movement, Sherlock pushed them both against a nearby wall, pressing her against it. His lips wandered to her neck, where they danced around accompanied by teeth and tongue. Being one of her most erogenous spots, Molly moaned and let her eyelids drop closed. She pressed him even closer by the back of his neck, which seemed to encourage the consulting detective even further.

 His lips kept tracing her sensitive skin until they met her mouth once again. His body pressed against her, she could feel his own tremors. It made a new wave of heat travel down to her groin; she could already feel the moistness between her legs. And, if the hardness pressed to her thigh was of any indication, she would have to say she was not the only one aroused. The air conditionate's cool breeze rose goosebumps on her now wet neck, which sent a shiver of plessure down her spine.

 As if on cue by her thoughts, Sherlock placed a hand on her thigh, encouraging Molly to round his hips with her legs. She complied, locking her ankles behind him, as he supported her both with both his hands and the wall's aid. Sherlock began to move against her, making her back grind against the flat surface behind her, up, down, an then up again. Time after time. Until that movement wasn't enough. That was the moment where he moved his hands to tug at her clothing until her underwear was exposed. She moaned in delight into his mouth as his long, thin fingers entered her with the aid of her dampness. She thanked whichever deity had made her shave two nights prior, as well as wear a loose skirt today.

 His fingers stroke her with an expertise that no-one would have given him credit for. She felt him add another finger and repressed a loud groan. His other hand had traveled to her ass again for support, and it squeezed it a bit as the third fingered entered her. It was all she could do not to come then and there. She then let her hands fall to his buckle and roam with it until it was undone between her fingers and his pants were open, exposing his hardness to its fullest. She took the member with delicate fingers and stroke its base a few times, loving the gasp it arose in him. They were both shivering with need, when something occurred to her.

 Molly muttered for him to wait as she reached out with her free hand for her purse. She was not going to turn her attention (or her eyes, either) to her desk if her life depended on it. She was holding Sherlock's long, thin cock in one hand, which was something she had never thought would actually happen. Her searching hand made a mess on the desk beside her until it reached the brown leather purse. From it, she blindly produced a condom. She brought it between them and opened it, her eyes and lips too occupied with the kissing to even part for one second from him. Sherlock groaned as she stroke his hardened shaft a few more times before gingerly putting the protection in place. She was marvelled at how quick and easily she had done it, even though her wonder at her luck and apparent experteese didn't last for long when he removed his fingers from her and replaced them with his cock.

 Placing his hard member on her entrance at first, Sherlock broke the kiss to lock eyes with her. Molly nodded in wordless agreement, and slowly he pushed inside of her warm, wet core. They moaned as one as her walls stretched to welcome him. He filled her perfectly, touching every bundle of nerves she had, stroking them time and again as he moved inside of her.

 As they rocked together, their shaky breaths became louder, their moans more frequent, their kisses more desperate and clumsy. 

 He moved in and out of her with ease, and for a second Molly's head was a mantra of _"Holy, this is Sherlock inside of me!"_  A brand new wave of heat spread over her breasts and nether regions as the realisation hit her. The moan it arose in her made Sherlock curse under his breath.

 She squeezed his member with her pussy without even noticing as her end approached. It only drove him wilder. She was sure she would feel the soreness on her back later, but it wasn't of any importance at that moment. Distantly, she realised someone was talking. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was the two of them. She heard their names being called by their deep, lustful voices. She noticed how the noises of flesh against flesh became louder as they both came close to their orgasms, in spite of her pulse throbbing in her ears.

 Sherlock moved a few more times and then whispered in her ear, "Come for me."

 She shivered as his deep baritone voice resounded in her head, his breath arising fresh goosebumps on her neck wherever it touched. It took her no more than that one moment to come, squeezing his member as waves of pleasurable fire ran over her, making her feel as though she had exploded. She failed to repress her scream as her strong orgasm washed over her. Sherlock grunted, yet he kept moving inside of her. The stroke against her sensitive walls seemed to be becoming too much when he came, his lower lip between his teeth. He was better at containing the sounds his throat clearly wanted to emit as he rode their orgasms off.

 Soon, their bodies came to a halt. Their lips found one another once again. They kissed tenderly, trying to catch their breath. A few moments passed before he pulled out of her, to which she shivered in response. Without breaking the kiss, he finally lifted Molly away from the wall with ease as he kept kissing her, over and over again.  Sherlock pulled away, and their tired eyes locked, accompanied by equal red-lipped smiles. Molly noticed how he seemed to be glowing, and was certain she must be too. Said glow seemed to be both a post-sex reaction and a response to the connection they seemed to have just developed.

 Molly knew, then, that she was not the only one in love.

 ______

 After both of them were tidied and the condom disposed, Sherlock smiled at her from across the room. Her insides fluttered with a new wave of heat, but it was not an if-you-keep-smiling-at-me-like-that-I'm-going-to-jump-on-you-again kind of heat, rather an I-love-you one. In fact, that last one was the thought that went through her mind when his lips curved upwards for her. She smiled back with no sense of fear behind her actions anymore.

 Sherlock took two steps closer and kissed her gingerly on the lips. As they parted, he looked into her eyes.

 "Thank you. Thank you for not leaving."

 Molly smiled as he walked away.


End file.
